In Her Arms
by Daehnerys
Summary: "The next time she would hold him in her arms, is when she would weep over his dead body..."  Hermione Granger reflects on the Battle of Hogwarts. A battle they had lost.


**In Her Arms**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

Hermione Granger screamed in anguish, the sound echoing around the dirty, rotten cell. She was having another nightmare about the war, something she still wasn't quite used to even after the amount of times it plagued her dreams.

Tears rolled down her sunken, filthy face, though she wasn't able to wipe them away as her hands were chained to the wall. She was in Malfoy Manor, and she was brought there five months ago. Five months ago, when the Battle of Hogwarts ended. Ended in Harry Potter's death.

He won. Voldemort won.

Nothing, _nothing _in the world could compare to how she felt when she saw each and every one of her class mates, falling to the ground after being hit with the Killing Curse. They all fought until the very end, but sometimes, it's just not enough. The Order of the Phoenix were frantically running around the castle, shooting spells at Death Eaters which were no match for their dark and dangerous curses.

And so, the Order of the Phoenix fell.

Hermione thought of Neville Longbottom. The incredibly brave boy who jumped in front of the Avada Kedavra to save Luna Lovegood's life. Though it didn't do any justice. Luna died too, not ten minutes after.

She was running out onto the battlefield, trying to block out Bellatrix Lestrange's mad cackling which made the scar on her forearm sting. _Mudblood, _was what it said. She got it a few months prior after her, Ron and Harry's capture by Snatchers. They managed to escape though.

_Ron, _she thought, choking out a sob. The insecure, red headed boy who loved her, though she felt nothing for him in return. The boy who deflected killing curses out of her way as she ran across the Hogwarts grounds, desperate to find Harry. Ron, the boy who eventually got mauled to death by Fenrir Greyback.

The image of Harry's anguished face as he took in Ron's limp, bloody form jumped into her mind. She recalled herself and Harry falling to their knees in agonizing pain as they gazed at Ron's glazed blue eyes staring at the sky, seeing nothing. Harry was sobbing. He was distraught. After months and months of searching for Horcruxes, they simply hadn't gotten them all in time. They were still preparing to break into Gringotts when their DA coins started heating up. The war was on.

Hermione, back in the present, looked down at her hands, expecting to see Ron's sticky blood running through her fingers. All she could see now was dirt. Though she knew that if you looked under the filth, you would see his blood, along with the blood of so many others.

Her mind drifted off to the past again, and looked down at the lifeless body in her arms. Except this time, it wasn't Ron's. It was Seamus Finnigan's. Then, it changed. Now, it was the dead body of Dean Thomas.

Images of her dead friends flicked through her memory, and she knew that if this kept up, she would turn insane in the space of a few weeks.

_Harry, _she thought as she doubled over in her cell as heaving sobs wracked her body. His death effected her the most. He was her best friend. Her saviour. Her lifeline. She knew how hard it was for him. Everyone depended on him to win the war. But they will never understand the hardships he had to go through for their lives. No one. Not even Hermione truly understood. She tried to be there for him, and he was grateful to have her. She knew that. And she would never leave his side. Never.

She stuck by his side as Quirrell attempted to get the Philosopher's Stone. She stood by him when everyone avoided him as they thought he was the Heir of Slytherin. She was there when his beloved godfather escaped from Azkaban. She didn't even leave when his name was put in the Goblet of Fire and Voldemort returned. She was the one who comforted him after the Battle of the Department of Mysteries; the one who gave him a shoulder the cry on as he grieved the death of Sirius. She comforted him when Dumbledore died. And most of all, she was the one who gave up her safety to travel with him to find Horcruxes.

All of it was pointless now, of course. Voldemort won. Simple as that. They hadn't managed to destroy all of the Horcruxes and Voldemort knew that. He sought out Harry at Hogwarts, and duelled with him.

It was intense. Bellatrix had just killed Molly Weasley and was now on her knees, looking up at her precious master with admiring black eyes.

"Master," she crooned, as if speaking to a lover. Voldemort ignored her. He had just spotted Harry at the back of the crowd, and was beckoning him forward.

"Harry Potter," he rasped, as Harry faced him. "The Boy Who Lived. Come to die."

It was deathly silent. No one dared to move. Everyone was glancing back and forth between Harry and Voldemort. Harry looked as if he was about to give up. He looked around the room and saw Molly's dead body at the feet of Bellatrix. He clenched his fists and looked back at Voldemort with agonized eyes.

Hermione stared at him from her place beside an injured McGonagall. She saw his green eyes filled with tears, and she knew. She knew he had finally given up. Her cinnamon brown eyes met his emerald ones for a fraction of a second.

_I'm sorry, _he mouthed, _I love you._

And with that, Voldemort raised the Elder Wand, and screamed "Avada Kedavra!"

There was a flash of green light, a twist of Harry's body...

And Harry Potter was dead.

And all hell broke loose.

People shot spells and curses back and forth. Voldemort was standing there, a triumphant grin on his ugly face. Bellatrix was cackling. McGonagall was falling... by now, the Light side only had a few members left... everyone was dying... they were losing...

Hermione let out a high pitched wail and dove beside Harry. She cradled him and sobbed over their memories, laughs, tears... everything they had together.

The night before the war started, she visited Harry in his room. He was devastated. He knew they were going to die in a couple of days.

"This could be our last day," he told her quietly. "Please. Just for tonight. I need this."

No words were spoken after that. She gave herself to him that night. They became united as one as Hermione and Harry made love. There was no romance between them. They were best friends. And Harry needed closure. She would give it to him.

A couple of hours later, Hermione would gaze at Harry's sleeping face which for once, looked peaceful. She would brush his black hair away from his eyes and hold him in her arms.

The next time she would hold him in her arms, was when she would weep over his dead body.

Hermione jerked back to the present, and scraped her long, dirty nails across the floor. She banged her head against the wall behind her and let out a scream. Voldemort had completely taken over. He was now using the clueless Muggles as slaves, and the Muggle-borns were getting tortured left and right. She didn't quite know why Voldemort hadn't killed her. It was probably so she could suffer, and so he could get a kick out of torturing Harry's best friend.

She quickly looked up as the door of her cellar slithered open. She knew who it was already. She has gotten so used to his presence.

Voldemort walked in and she was quite surprised when she didn't see the excited look in his red eyes. He would always get excited about torturing her. His eyes weren't excited now, though. They looked bored, and determined.

Hermione's stomach gave a lurch when she realised what was going to happen. He smirked at her.

"You know what I'm going to do." It wasn't a question, it was a statement, and Hermione nodded her reply.

There was a beat of silence, and their eyes met.

He raised his wand.

She closed her eyes.


End file.
